Seeing Double: The Two Sevs
by aquickdisguise
Summary: Completely Romance Free fic based on Snape's teaching years before he met Harry. He's still slightly deatheater mad, but then he meets Evia, a pestliental child who forces him to get his act together. In a nutshell.
1. First Years and First Dententions

Note:

Basically: This is a ROMANCE-FREE fic. I decided I would write something more school-ish. Y'know… the teachers being more … teacherish and that.

But that I realised that would be boring, so I chucked in an OC, a bit of mystery, some crazy banshee library books and mixed. Interested? Read the Background info:

(this is the background info:)

This is set around two years after Snape began teaching at Hogwarts (so yes, he's deserted Voldy and is still getting over Lily's death- poor guy… But we like our Snape troubled- and yes- he's about thirty five in this- assuming that he's around 45 in the first HP, and thus 52 in the last.). And because Snape amuses me, he is the sarcastic centre to this fic. Also, he has not met Harry or the Weasly twins or Percy (yhup- Percy would have been nine or ten I think…) but possibly Charlie may pop up somewhere. In second or third year, seeing as I don't know when he graduated. Mebbe Bill will pop up in seventh year or summat? I dunno. We'll see. Uh, enjoy.

OH! And this WILL contain a Quidditch match… just not this chapter.

OH! Also… this is a pilot. As in… if I don't get a review (even if it's just 'yeh') I probably won't continue this- I have many plot lines going on in my head at the mo, and I'm going with the most popular… or if they're all popular… then, well… I'll just have to find some extra time.

DISCLAIMER: HP Characters JK's- NOT MINE. (Disclaimer may vary in my dreams)

* * *

Severus Snape sighed as he strode briskly towards his dungeon, and gave the door a dark look. On the other side of that door was a class of brand new, freshly sorted first years, eagerly awaiting an exciting potions lesson. How very wrong they were. If there was one thing worse than taking the first potions class of the year, it was taking the first class of obnoxious first-years. He adjusted his cape and pushed the doors open dramatically, wand in hand. 

Almost instinctively, he waved his wand towards a Hufflepuff boy who was drawing on a corner of his potions book. The boy's quill slipped from his hand and placed itself on the desk next to him. Snape's wand did not halt; it swished across his body towards a dark-haired girl who had her feet propped rebelliously on the desk in front of her.

She flicked her wand casually, and murmured "Protego." Her feet remained on the desk.

Snape stopped mid-stride, and turned slowly, and for a fleeting instant, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. His face was blank in the next second, but somewhere in his deep black eyes lingered the admiration, or interest which had so briefly been uncovered.

The student smiled, as if in reply to Snape's unintentional expression, apparently undaunted by the potion master's swirling black attire and now menacing features. To emphasise her confidence, she blew a bubblegum globe, which Snape swiftly vanished. Her eyes flashed mischievously as Snape swept over to her desk, frustrated at the eleven-year-old's poise.

"Ten points from…" He checked the emblem on her robes and raised an eyebrow a fraction of a millimetre in surprise. "Gryffindor." He gave an almost imperceptible smile, which the cheeky girl in front of him returned. "And a detention. Friday night. Eight o'clock in my office."

He turned his back on her and resumed his walk to the front of the classroom. Other students were looking at the gothic teacher with expressions ranging from apprehension to downright fear. Snape reached the front of the room and turned once more, his cloak billowing around him like a large tail.

"You will not be permitted to chew gum, deface the equipment in this classroom, talk without permission, use magic without permission or begin mixing a potion without my direction whilst in this class, or you will suffer the same fate as…" Snape paused to look expectantly at the Gryffindor girl, who looked behind and around her as if there was another student to which Snape could have been referring.

She finished her act and looked her teacher in the face, and her lime green eyes met his. "Evia Dalsev. Sev, if you like."

The professor averted his eyes quickly, directing his gaze at the other students in the room. They, unlike Evia, seemed to notice the hint of Death-Eater madness that had once occupied those eyes. "…as Miss Dalsev here. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a general murmur of agreement from the timid first years, but Evia's voice was the only one which was discernable. "As ice." She muttered.

"But, Headmaster, she's-"

"Severus, she is a first year student! How could she possibly have performed a shield charm on her first day?" Albus Dumbledore's tone was sceptical, but his eyes told the potions master a different story.

Snape knew he had his employer interested if not puzzled. All the same, it was frustrating not to be acknowledged. "Are you questioning my judgement?" His voice was dangerously low. "Because I know a shield charm when I see one. I have had them used against me more times than I care to count."

Albus rubbed his forehead with a hand and sighed. "Severus, I understand that your experience in the Dark Arts has been plentiful, but I find it hard to believe a student could perform such advanced magic on her first day. She cannot have had a wand more than a few weeks!"

"Unless she had taken one." Snape's eyes darted around the office as his mind worked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Unless she had taken a wand," Snape repeated, "and that wand switched it's allegiance to her. And she has been using it."

Dumbledore considered the possibility for a moment. Then he raised an eyebrow. "She is eleven years old." He said quietly. "Not even Tom Riddle could perform a shield charm in his first year. Nor, if I am correct, did he ever attempt to steal another wizard's wand. Severus, I agree that if Miss Dalsev had indeed performed a shield charm, it is definitely worth investigating, but as it is, you may have noticed I am more than a little busy. I am due another visit on Lily's son this week."

Snape closed his eyes tightly. The headmaster frequently reminded Severus of Lily's death, and it was no secret that he did so because he wished Severus to remain at his teaching position at Hogwarts.

Nevertheless, Snape made a bid for dignity. "Sir, must you-?"

"Yes, Severus. I must. Now, I shall bid you goodnight, and entrust you with the task of discovering how a remarkably bright student such as Miss Dalsev came to be so remarkably bright."

Snape bowed his head, still stung from Dumbledore's cruel reminder. "Yes, Headmaster. Goodnight."

He turned to leave the office, but paused at the door. "Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked up from his desk. "Yes, Severus?" There was a hint of weariness in his voice.

"When did you perform your first shield charm?"

"First year, second week." Dumbledore replied, a smile playing on his features.

"Thank you, Headmaster." Snape nodded, an echo of Albus' smile in his words. He closed the door silently behind him.

Severus finished his last flourishing 'S' and dotted the end of the sentence neatly. He then attached the note to the door of his office, and withdrew, clearly wishing to be left alone. He examined a third-year's concoction and grimaced. If potion-making had its own hell, one Charlie Weasly was headed that way on an express train. He was interrupted by a rapping on the door. He waved his wand and the lock flicked upwards, admitting a dark-haired girl whose bright eyes set the teacher on edge.

She held up the note. "Can't read it, sir."

Snape rose from his seat at his desk and glanced at Evia. If he had expected a bored, tired or even annoyed student staring at him from the doorway, he was disappointed. She was looking around his small office with an air of awe, her veil of black hair hanging limply around her shoulders. To most people, Snape's residence would have pitifully dull. A single bed occupied one corner, and a cluttered desk was squeezed into the opposite side, but it was the walls, lined with flask-filled shelves, their contents belonging both to Snape and his students which held the youngster's gaze. Evia's eyes were wide, but as her Professor's shadow fell over her, she closed her slightly open mouth and fixed her face into a look of simmering confidence.

"And so the action you would like me to take is…?" Snape's drawl inspired a raised eyebrow from the girl.

"I would like you to instruct me as to my detention task, sir." Evia's voice could almost have been an impersonation, had it not been for exactly the right amount of expression which accompanied it.

Once more, Snape found it hard to control an urge to simultaneously smile and scowl. His face remained blank. "You will go to the library. There you will find a stack of books which Madam Pince has prepared for you. You will search through each book and note down any missing or defaced pages- and you will continue to do so until you reach the end of the pile. I will check in on you every half hour, and if you have left before your task is complete, you shall be repeating the exercise every Saturday night for this term. I'd get started if I were you."

Evia turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, and Snape found himself scrutinising every inch of her, as if she was unbearably familiar, and yet no matter how he wracked his brain, he could not think where he had seen someone who looked remotely like her.

---

At ten thirty, Severus made his way to the library. In truth, he hadn't returned once every half-hour, instead he had instructed Madam Pince to keep an eye on Evia, which she had done, until now, when she retired to her own office. The black-caped teacher swirled through the doors to the library, and immediately flicked out his wand.

The library was veiled with an unnatural darkness. Snape did not attempt a _lumos_ charm; he knew it would be useless. Instead, he contorted a home-made spell into a rasping, throaty sound, which parted the darkness in front of him somewhat. He quickened his pace and swerved through the shelves until he reached a group of desks. They were empty, save for the one of the far right.

A young girl was slumped over an ancient leather-bound book; she could have fallen asleep while researching, or, say, doing a detention… save that she wasn't breathing.

Snape moved fast. He leapt forwards and pushed Evia's head to one side. She was paler than usual, but otherwise there was no physical damage. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then composed himself. The professor glared at the book, and realised he'd expressed his unwanted emotions too soon. A droplet of crimson blood- around the size of a knut- was resting on the page, and that page seemed to be very eager to absorb that blood; it was rapidly shrinking in size.

Severus pushed his student away from the book, and began to search her for a wound. He pushed back her hair behind her ears, and pulled up the sleeves of her robes- and then it caught his eye. There, on the tip of her index finger on her right hand, was a paper-cut. Or at least, it seemed like a paper-cut. It was the right size and shape, but it was leaking blood much faster to be an innocent flesh-wound.

The potions master paused for a moment, and then let out a musical cry, directing his wand at the incision. The bleeding slowed, but the wound remained open. Despite himself, Snape felt slightly proud. The counter-curse for the more notorious _Sectumsempra_ spell had been designed only to heal wounds caused by that particular curse. Obviously, he had been a little more intelligent than he had banked on.

He was brought back to the present situation when a large leather-bound book hit him roughly in the head. It appeared that the small about of blood Evia had unwillingly donated had given the book the power to animate itself; presumably, from its incessant beating of Severus' head, to acquire more blood. What the book would become once it had gained sufficient amounts of blood, Severus was not prepared to find out, particularly after his stint as a master of Dark Magic.

However, it seemed he didn't have much choice in the matter, as the book suddenly snapped open at a page containing an illustration of a knife. Snape looked up with less than seconds to spare before a very real, and very sharp knife fell from the book and sliced his cheek open.

He gritted his teeth and reached for the knife, but it faded from reality, and the illustration returned to the open page, only now, the knife was dripping with blood.

"So classy." Snape murmured dryly. He had recognised the author as being one Ed Galleon Ope, the wizard after which the Galleon was named, but also one who, in his senior years, became immersed in Dark magic and authored many unorthodox volumes on the subject.

"_Incendio!_" Snape roared, directing his flames at the manuscript. They hit the book squarely in the centre, and without warning the tome dropped to the floor. Snape approached it cautiously, just in case his spell hadn't done the trick.

He was almost close enough to pick the book up when it leapt from the floor and slammed into his shins, causing him not only to fall on his face, but knock his head painfully on a book shelf on his way down. His vision blurred for a second, but he blinked and it returned to normal. He was contemplating the deep gash in his leg left by the book (which had now grown fangs) when the book in question zoomed off to the other end of the library.

Snape hauled himself to his feet, using the shelf to steady himself- and cocked an ear.

_Thud._

He paused. Was that him or did he just hear a noise? His head whipped around.

_Thud!_

No- there was definitely something there… it just…

_THUD! Thud-thud-thud-thud…_

Severus poked his head out from behind the bookshelf and his eyes were immediately drawn to the fallen shelves, and the ones that were being shoved over by the domino effect. He dived out the way of the collapsing library and shielded Evia from the tumbling shelves. He crouched awkwardly, his wand arm held out at an odd angle in order to cast a shield charm where he could not physically protect his student, until the echoing thuds of falling shelves had dimmed to a distant murmur.

Then he brushed himself off, and waited in silence. Out of the rising dust came a rectangular silhouette- and Snape had no doubt that it was that damned book again. He crouched slightly, intuitively counting down the seconds until the book was within reach.

His knees tensed, and then sprang out agilely, and Severus dove onto the book and held it down, reminded forcefully of a book the idiot gamekeeper kept tightly bound and padlocked in his hut.

"_Aguamenti!_" He gasped, and the book was immediately drenched. Severus pulled it away from the small puddle of water, and proceeded to squeeze it in a manner akin to a housewife wringing the morning washing. The water poured out of the pages, and with it came the remnants of Evia's-and his own- blood. The book fell still.He turned his attention to Evia. She was breathing now, but the wound on her finger was still open. He repeated his counter curse until the blood disappeared, and then lay the student out in amore comfortable position.

Severus heaved a sigh and gave a grim smile. He levered himself upright, pushing on his knee for support and surveyed the carnage. He waved his wand once, and the shelves sprung up into place, the books returned to their correct place, the large puddle of blood and water on the floor evaporated and Galleon's book soared off to a distant part of the library where it belonged. The teacher looked at his unconscious charge and closed his eyes, heaving another deep sigh. He could have killed a student.

He took a moment to let the guilt sink through his consciousness in order to ensure he set more appropriate detention tasks in the future- and then he noticed that he wasn't just guilty. He was… scared? He held up his wand hand. It was shaking slightly. As unappealing as the thought was, he was genuinely shocked at how close he had come to loosing one pestilential troublemaker.

One pestilential troublemaker… who reminded him a hell of a lot of himself.

Professor Snape pulled out a chair and slumped into it, head in hands. He could have killed a student. He could have killed Evia Dalsev.

* * *

Was my Edgar Allen Poe reference too obvious? 

Hope not.

Anyhoo, please R&R… I know everyone says that… but it's a fab feeling when you get a review… unless it says 'omg, your fic SUCKS'… in which case, you have to wonder why the person took the time to let you know it was bad when they could be doing other things… like reading good fics… hmmm…

Well anyway, if you don't review my stuff… go and review someone else's. Know that you've made someone happy. (but please give an answer to this: chapter 2??)

Thankee and g'night.


	2. The Teacher Feature

Note:

**Harry P and Co Ain't Mine.**

By the way, guys. In accordance with Roxanne2's review- please note that my age calculations may have been incorrect. Severus, would, in fact be in his twenties at this point- and this impacts on the age of other characters too- but don't worry: Dumbledore's still old and Evia's still a first year. Anyhoo, I still see Snape in my mind looking like a 29/31 year-old-guy although in reality I greatly underestimate him- he has the agility/ ability of a twenty-year old, which is closer to his actual age. (my excuse: he hasn't used hand cream). Oh, and also… he will be that much more immature. This fits slightly better with the first chapter too, as part of the whole still-getting-the-hang-of-teaching thingo.

Heh, it's like giving him an upgrade

Oh. And if anyone's interested in my musical nature (I like to soundtrack things). The Quidditch match, particularly the Sev/Minerva interaction is kinda soundtracked to the riff of 'Parklife' by Blur, and also 'Sly' and 'One, Four, Five' by the Cat Empire had a part to play.

**Also,** if anyone's seen Makani's deviantart page, she is FANTASTIC- and also her piece with Sev and Minerva changing each others robes (Called Team spirit)- that was the inspiration for the 'teacher feature' as Charlie so lovingly calls it. I saw it… and just had to write a whole scene.

* * *

Dumbledore was livid. In fact, Snape had but one recollection of the headmaster in a more incensed state of mind - and that occasion was one which involved the Dark Lord and the death of Albus' close friend. He had been, at least, a formidable sight. It did not offer much comfort to know that one of the most reserved and patient wizards of the age was reaching such a level of abandon.

"Severus Tobias Snape, do you realise the seriousness of your actions? Do you understand that you could have added the death of a student to your already extensive list of sins?!_ Do you_?" Albus' voice grew both in volume and intensity as he stood up in order to make an impression on his teacher. His steely blue eyes sliced across Severus' face, reading it like an open book.

Snape did not bother to put on his façade of austere indifference during his meetings with Dumbledore. He knew it would merely show disrespect and would not, he admitted, help his own state of mind.

"I do, Headmaster. I comprehend exactly how close that situation could have been."

Dumbledore continued to stare at his employee, and although he trusted Snape, he still felt there were certain measures he would be forced to employ in order to keep the former Death Eater loyal.

"Severus, I am about to use Legilimency on you. I can but pray you are mature enough to allow me to discover the events of last Friday evening without putting up too much of a fight." Albus had calmed considerably, and he at least had the patience to talk to Snape as an actual human being, despite the fact that Legilimency was considered a breach of privacy in the wizarding world.

Nevertheless, the last time Snape had experienced Legilimency was when the Dark Lord had sprung it randomly upon him the moment before he set off to murder the Potters.

"I am ready, Headmaster." And Snape bowed his head respectfully before making eye contact with the wizard. He trusted his employer to seek out only the memory he claimed he was searching for- which was, frankly, a large step for Severus.

Instantly, Dumbledore was flicking through his memories in a well practised and organised fashion until he had reached Friday last. Snape relieved clearing the darkness with his wand, his quick actions and his attempt at healing Evia's wound, his short scuffle with Galleon's book- he and Dumbledore watched the entire memory, sharing the guilt and the uncertainty, and the fear that accompanied it. After fifteen minutes, the Headmaster withdrew.

"Thank you, Severus. You have once again proved yourself worthy of being a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are dismissed."

Snape left promptly. He understood that Dumbledore had merely summoned him in order to ensure that the teacher had not acted with malicious intentions, despite his two years of prior service to the school. He understood that the Headmaster was trying to mould him while he still could- but he also understood that Dumbledore was wasting his time.

He would never revert to anything similar, or connected to his previous Death Eater habits- no; his allegiance had been amended the moment Voldemort had set foot in the Potter household with murderous intentions.

Snape sighed and his lanky frame seemed to shudder as if the action had caused him great effort. He forced himself to dwell upon a more cheerful subject. It pained him to think about Lily for too long, and he did not particularly wish to spend the weekend drowning in his own misery, although, he contemplated sourly, the prospect seemed likely- even if Slytherin did smash Gryffindor in the Quidditch match tomorrow morning.

---

Minerva McGonagall was not one to back down from a challenge. Nor was she one to be found passing up the opportunity to robe herself in red and gold. The Saturday following Snape's interview with the headmaster was no different. She was looking particularly splendid on this particular occasion, having decided to mimic the Gryffindor emblem. Her hair had been transfigured a spectacular ruddy red, and it fanned out from behind her ears as if she had been wearing bunches for several weeks and just removed the elastic ties. Her golden robes were collared with ruby red embroidery, which, with her oddly styled hair, gave the impression of an impressive mane. Her nose had been painted palest pink, and a black streak of eyeliner leading from her nose to her brightly painted lips accentuated her intentions.

Minerva McGonagall looked positively fearsome.

Not that it stopped Severus from issuing his usual jibes. He had always preferred to dress in simple deep green robes with a customary silver snake broach- a look which both suited him, and kept his dignity relatively intact. Well, at least until the wands came out.

In his first professional year at Hogwarts, a young and somewhat light-hearted Minerva had enchanted the head of a mop to wonder over to the Slytherin stand and grow a lion's face as an attempt to cheer up the latest addition to the staff. The mop had roared directly in front of Severus' eyes, and the young teacher had stared at it in a bored manner until it began to annoy him with its incessant growling.

He had retorted by transfiguring the tails of the mop to become snakes, and watched with mild interest as the mop attempted to eat itself, amidst Slytherin cheers. Truth be told, he held a great respect for Minerva's nerve, despite his cold attitude towards her.

This year, tension had been building- students were looking forwards to the next bout of teacher rivalry, and Minerva and Severus were in no position to disagree.

"You are looking… interesting this morning, Minerva. Are you quite aware you seem to have lost your mind during the night?" Severus began the taunts in his smooth drawl.

"My mind has not wandered from my body, as you so haughtily suggest," she replied quietly, a curt smile playing her features, "but rather, your sense of pride seems to have been misplaced." Then she raised her voice. "And I should hope you have something planned, Professor, for I would hate to show you up in front of so many students."

The group of Gryffindor students that hand walked past held out their hands, which McGonagall was delighted to high five as they passed her.

Severus waited until members from his own house were drawing closer before he replied. "Don't worry, Professor, I, too have come prepared."

Minerva smiled. "Aah yes, safety in numbers I see." She indicated the Slytherins that had stopped to observe the banter. "Well, sir. I shall see you at the match. May the best house win."

"We will." Severus replied smoothly. He turned towards the pitch, but before his bat-like cloak had settled, it was sent flying once more as he swerved back. "Incidentally," he called, "who is commentating?"

Minerva gave a smile of deep satisfaction. "Charlie Weasly, and an- ah… assistant." She replied. Snape's puzzled expression was justified- Charlie and his brother Bill were Gryffindor's best chasers- why the player would be commentating when he had no sign of an injury, he could not fathom to guess. Minerva made it all too clear in moments.

"I did warn you I had come prepared." Her smile was triumphant.

---

"Good morning, Hufflepuffs!" Charlie Weasly began his commentary amid cheers from members of the Hufflepuff house. "Ravenclaws!" The block of blue to his left began a Mexican wave around the arena. "Slytherins." Hissing came from the green and silver bunch. "Aaaaaand Gryffindors!" He turned the microphone to his head of house- one of the two members of staff who had insisted on sitting with their house rather than their associates for the opening game- and she placed her wand to her throat and gave a mighty roar which was magnified to fill the arena amidst cheers and whoops from her students. McGonagall smiled eloquently at the green-clad teacher on the other side of the pitch. He scowled in reply.

"Hope we're all feeling well and refreshed. You may have noticed the Gryffindor head of house- one Minerva McGonagall-" He paused in order to let the cheers subside, "-has already started the festivities by demonstrating her contribution to the long-time suspected, short-time confirmed teacher feature! We are still awaiting a retort from Slytherin coordinator, Severus Snape!"

Snape smiled subtly and raised his wand. Green sparks exploded from the tip and a the silhouette of a large snake- not entirely unlike the one so frequently seen in the Dark Mark- hung, shimmering, in the air. He directed its face towards the Gryffindor bunch, and, looking to his house for support, held up three fingers. His house silently counted down with their professor, and as the last of Severus' gloved fingers dropped, they let out a mighty hiss, which the snake projection mimed in front of them.

Charlie gave the serpent a look of distaste worthy of the Potions Master himself. "Indeed." He turned his attention back to the pitch, his tone clearing insinuating that he cared not for mid-air apparitions, although his cheerful grin was not displaced. "As we are all well aware, today's match- featuring me, the venerated Charlie Weasly, and my revered brother Bill – will be played by the fabulous Gryffindor squadron and, according to what I can see from up here, it's the-" The boy barely suppressed a snort, "God, they look like leprechauns from here," Charlie's words were deliberately loud, although his tone of voice suggested he was talking more to himself. "Oh, I mean- the equally talented," Charlie lowered his voice, "_but-not-really_; SLYTHERIN TEAM!" He grinned over at the seething block of green as the brightly clad players whooshed onto the pitch. A Slytherin beater zoomed up to the commentator's box, raising his club threateningly at Charlie.

The irrepressible Gryffindor chaser grinned cheekily. "Nothing personal, Jakes, its just your costume is looking decidedly Celtic today." And before Alasdair Jacobson had the chance to swing his bat, Charlie had pulled out his broom, rocketed away from the platform and was hurtling towards his position on the field.

A new voice had taken over the commentator's microphone immediately. "Good morning, everyone. This is Evia Dalsev reporting for duty- but you can call me Sev, both behind my back and to my face."

Severus' head shot upwards, and he realised with a painful shock that Evia was staring right at him. He could feel her gaze from across the pitch. That was unfair of Minerva. The events concerning his latest detention task were well hidden from the students- and Evia had been unconscious for most of Severus' rescue so there was no need to worry about a leak from her- but certain members of staff were all-too-aware of the proceedings.

Evia continued, regardless of his behaviour. "We're currently experiencing technical difficulties- our match commentator, Charlie Weasly, is unable to be with us at this moment in time." She peered over the top of the box, and the rest of the stadium mimicked her action. Charlie was flying circles around various members of the Slytherin team, all of whom seemed determined to knock him from his broom. The red haired lad swerved his broom sideways and swung underneath it like a sloth in order to avoid the Slytherin keeper, who had been about to fly into him. He shot off as soon as the opposition had cleared his broom, narrowly avoiding some tricky situations with a stunning display of aerial acrobatics.

"And as our beloved Charlie Weasly mentioned just before his rapid departure, the kick-off to this year's Quidditch season promises to bring many surprises, one of which, if I am correct, appears to be starting to my right." It seemed she had the full attention of the stadium, for once more, all eyes turned to match her gaze. The professor appeared to have transfigured into her animagus form.

And her hard work had paid off. Her wildly teased hair and brightly painted face was reflected in her feline form- and she looked for all the world like a miniature lioness.

Above her, in the staff stand, Dumbledore clapped a hand to his forehead. When he had agreed to let Minerva organise the commentary for the match, he had most certainly not intended for her to commandeer the box for her personal enjoyment.

Even if he was rather enjoying the playful banter.

The headmaster looked up in time to see a very tall and muscular Bill Weasly assist his animagus professor onto the back of his broom. The pair shot off to the Slytherin stand, where Minerva trotted lightly onto the railings. She sat directly opposite Severus and opened her furry mouth to meow patronizingly at him.

He stared dully at her, apparently unimpressed by her initiative. "Come now, Minerva. Play fair." He smirked.

She prowled across the railings, and then leapt down, reappearing a moment later in her human form. She turned to Severus, a triumphant smile on her face. "One- nil, I believe." She murmured quietly.

Severus glowered. He caught a flash of light to his right and turned around, brow furrowed. A silver gas hung in the air in the middle of the stadium, and he rolled his eyes as he recognised the spell. It appeared as though a Ravenclaw student had been hit with the urge to magnify the rivals' conversation above the pitch. "Oh, I beg to differ." Severus retorted.

Minerva raised a cynical eyebrow and imitated the look of sarcastic expectation so often worn by her rival. He returned the gaze and whipped out his wand. He began making complex movements in the air in front of the Gryffindor head of house.

She looked at him in a half amused manner, seeing no visible effects his pointless wand-waving was incurring. The other half of her expression was suspicion. Just because she couldn't _see_ his enchantment at work, didn't mean that anything was happening. She scrutinised her foe for a moment longer, and then realised he had finished waving his wand, and that his satisfied gaze was directed at her own house.

She turned and gasped.

He had coloured the hair of the Gryffindor students so that they spelled the word 'Slytherin'. She turned to him, furious. His mouth formed a subtle smile, and his eyebrows were held at a jaunty angle for a second.

Then Minerva McGonagall wrote "Gryffindor rocks my pants" on his face.

He scowled and washed the message off with a _scourgify_ charm, and his wand flashed brilliantly for a second, and the entire Quidditch pitch gasped in shock.

Had Professor Snape just _killed_ McGonagall?

Obviously not, was the answer. The flash of green light had resulted in nothing more than a wardrobe change. Minerva's robes were green, and her painted face now depicted that of a snake, not a lion.

She returned her clothes back to normal, but no sooner had she done so, she felt an odd sensation below her waist…

…And realised with a shock that Severus' enchantment had extended to her underwear. Minerva decided at that moment that she did _not_ approve of g-strings.

Dumbledore glanced at the screen, and saw Minerva's slight frown of discomfort. Now, he realised, would be a good time to deem it appropriate for the match to commence. If his staff members got any more out of control, they'd be setting off fireworks.

A loud whistle and an even louder crack told him he was absolutely right.

---

Severus left the stadium after his students, deciding to lag behind in order to pick up any stragglers who may still be cavorting around, celebrating their win. And the thought of docking Gryffindor house points would undoubtedly make him feel better about their loss.

It had taken ten points. A measly ten points- if the Weasly brothers hadn't been so damn fantastic, Slytherin would have emerged victorious. They had scored their winning goal at precisely the moment Shanks had caught the Snitch- and Hooch had bloody given them the points.

The final score was 410 to 420. Minerva would never let him live it down. Forty-two goals in one Quidditch match was enough ammunition to last at least the year. His frown darkened.

He caught sight of a straggler ahead of him wearing red-collared robes, and he picked up his pace, a little too eager to dock points. He didn't realise until it was too late that the student he was approaching was no less than Evia Dalsev.

"Congratulations, sir. It was a close ma-" She hailed him cheerfully, her mood no doubt bolstered by her selection for commentator and subsequent win.

"Quiet, you. And ten points from Gryffindor for lagging behind." Severus' tone of voice dictated that she should not reply. His refusal to look at her should have given her the hint even if she had missed the subtleties in his voice. He was foolish in believing it would work on such an insufferable character.

"Sir, I hardly think that by taking points from us now you will make any difference to the outcome of the game."

"Another ten points for cheek." Still the Master would not look her in the face.

"And Professor McGonagall told me about how you saved me in the library." She lowered her voice. "Thank-you." She finished her sentence quietly.

This time he did glance her way briefly. Although a pang of guilt echoed in his stomach, it was not enough to make him admit he had asked Madam Pince to select books from the Restricted Section. She met his eyes in that brief moment, and he was genuinely surprised to see them so free of dislike. In fact, she was regarding him with a sense of awe.

"Do not expect more of the same from me again, Miss Dalsev. I am taken to understand in future you will take more care." He could not bare her eyes anymore. He picked up his pace and left her behind, unpleasantly aware that she was still staring at him, now with mild amusement. He took a left at the entrance and headed immediately for the dungeons, knowing full well that once she had entered the building, she would turn right and enjoy a triumphant lunch with her housemates.

_He was going to finish his marking_, he reasoned, _he was definitely not hiding from her and her infernal glare. He still had one more paper to mark…_

* * *

Oh yes. Severus has a sense of humour. After all, what better way to attack your foe than with something they would undoubtedly never speak of again, such as an underwear change? Below the bar, yes- but then, that's his style. 

And before you start getting suspicious- yes there maybe a certain level of friendship between the two, but no- in this fic Sev and Minerva will never be lovers. That would be odd to say the least. Anyway, I prefer to think of them as friendly rivals. They launch personal attacks at each other, but they never mean it maliciously.

One more thing- when Mini (baha- I'ma call Minerva that now) puts her wand to her throat- it's to allow her to speak in tongues. In this case, lion. (Just in case you were wondering why she amplifies her voice even though she has a microphone)

Anything welcome in the form of reviews (concrit encouraged especially), bar that furfg rubbish which is REALLY starting to tick me off.


	3. Brewing the Best

Hokay!

So last time… they were playing Quidditch. And Gryffindor won (hurrah?). And as for Snape's half-fear of Evia… well, she's very like him… but then elements of her are very Lily-ish too. And on top of that, she has her own uniqueness. I know what you're thinking and NO, she is not related to either of them.

Oh, and I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before… but Harry's two years old at this stage. The Twins would be three? Percy's five, Charlie's 13 and Bill's 16. (Just for anyone who's wondering)

ALSO (sorry guys) the URL for that Makani piece on dev art is this:

http:// makani. deviantart. com/ art/ team-spirit-8212186

(take out the spaces though)

* * *

Severus had never considered himself to be a person to act on instinct, but weeks after he had shut himself in his office to avoid that infernal child, he could still not fathom any other explanation.

He had found- much to his discomfort- that in her few weeks of attending Hogwarts, she had taken a particular fondness to her Potions lessons, and what was more, she had a natural flair for the class- although Defence Against the Dark Arts was by far her most advanced subject.

What she didn't have was the ability to keep her mouth shut.

"Sir, if I was to completely ignore the textbook and go by intuition, what would happen?" She called to him across the classroom.

"Undoubtedly you would fail the subject, Miss Dalsev, so long as you haven't killed us all." Was the cynical reply.

"So you wouldn't mind if I was to try that now?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Miss Dalsev, I expressly _forbid_ you to tamper with your potion." He paused. "Although, you may experiment after you have created a perfect concoction direct from the textbook." He gave a smirk. If she ever managed to create a potion accurate down to the number of slices she made to her ingredients, he'd- he paused to think of something outrageously unthinkable… He'd give five points to Gryffindor.

"Well, can you tell me if this is perfect?"

He was begging to wonder if he should resign now. Thirteen weeks into the school year, and his icy sarcasm had still not left any effect on her. He strode over to her cauldron and peered over the edge. They were brewing simple mixtures- their first real assignment. Nevertheless, the brilliant emerald liquid was not what he had expected to see.

"It is… adequate." He vanished the contents. "Now brew it again. This time _perfectly_. I suggest you start by reading the text thoroughly, particularly the line concerning Gurdyroot." He had not intended his words to be a challenge, but that was how it came out. For a moment he was reminded irresistibly of Lily's very pompous imitation of Slughorn.

_"'Now, Severus. That potion is fair, but I'll put five sickles on your brewing it _perfect._'"_

_He had giggled, and then felt the sharp pain of a book on the back of his head. He had turned to face James Potter…_

Snape scowled in front of Evia, who had already begun mixing her potion again, a look of immense concentration on her face as she sliced up her Gurdyroot.

_…And then the book had been thrown at Potter, and Lily had flashed him a brilliant smile…_

He sighed imperceptibly, but the girl below him looked up, wondering if she had made another mistake. Those eyes were staring at him again.

_She was dead._

Snape glared at her. "If you intend to begin experimenting, Miss Dalsev, I suggest you brew me that perfect potion." He drifted off around the classroom once more, leaving her to puzzle over her ingredients once more.

He _hated_ that child. She was a constant reminder of Lily, with her bight eyes and Gryffindor spirit- and her total ignorance was so unbearably similar to his attitude in his youth.

Evia looked into the bottom of her empty cauldron and sighed. A perfect potion suddenly seemed like a very difficult task. She scrutinised the metal for a moment, and then an idea formed in her mind

A first-class result in her first year seemed unlikely…

…but a first-class result in _third_ year had a lot more chance of success…

---

"Charlie?" She kneeled next to the third-year's chair. He looked down at her and grinned. He'd taken an elder-brotherly attitude to her since her patriotic debut as commentator at the start of term.

"What can I do for you, Sev?" He had also obliged to call her by her nickname.

"You do Potions, right?" Her voice held a persuasive note to it already, and the Weasly boy grinned.

"You know damn well I do Potions, and that I suck at it as much as every Gryffindor… except you, of course."

She frowned. "But you could do my potions easy, yeah?" He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're just being modest. Look, Snape won't let me experiment-"

She was cut off by a loud guffaw. "Well, duh. Do you think he _enjoys_ cleaning up essence of charred cauldron?" Charlie looked at her sceptically, but he gave her a good-natured pat on the shoulder.

"-unless I brew a perfect Potion." She finished, grinning. His eyes grew and she laughed triumphantly, pointing at him. "Yes! He gave me _permission_! To make up my own! All I have to do is ace one measly class!"

Charlie took a moment to catch his breath. "And you want me to help you?"

Evia nodded enthusiastically. She stood up, her head barely reaching the top of the armchair. She looked at him expectantly.

"What, _now_?"

She stopped. "Well, if it's not too much trouble…" She looked at him hopefully.

He looked as if he might disagree, and then he caught the eye of Tessa Benton, a very attractive Gryffindor girl in the year above him. She played keeper for the Quidditch team, and Charlie just couldn't get enough of the way her bright blue eyes sparkled, or the way she shook her deep brown hair out of her face in a game- oh, and now he was staring, and she was blushing, and- "Yeah, of course."

He rose, feeling distinctly stupid, and followed the younger student out of the common room.

"You should just ask her out." Evia said as soon as the portrait had closed behind her.

Charlie had long since gotten used to her ability to draw the most piercingly accurate observations from her fellow students' actions. Nevertheless, it still irked him. "That obvious was I?"

She turned the force of her gaze on him. "Well yeah." She smirked slightly. "I hear subtlety isn't a Weasly trait." His face fell slightly, and she punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Doesn't matter though, 'cause she was watching you the whole time you were talking to me. I could see her out the corner of my eye." She grinned and mimicked Tessa stealing glances at the redheaded lad.

He laughed. "Okay, Guru. What do you suggest?"

"Tomorrow. After training. Just get it over with. Could be sweet- 'specially if it's raining." Evia grinned at him, and he smiled incredulously. She had a lot of nerve for an eleven year old. And what was more- she made suggestions actually worth listening to.

"Okay, thanks. One minor point, though. If she rejects me and leaves me looking like an idiot- what then? How to salvage my last shreds of dignity?"

Evia actually laughed. "Oh, as if that'd happen. Anyway, even if it did, you should just take it that she really fancies you heaps, and just wants you to ask her again. To make sure you're- eh…" She paused to think of the right word. "Devoted?"

"Committed?" Charlie supplied.

"That's the one."

"So- optimism for here on out?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and she glanced sideways to watch his lazy walk for a second.

"Optimism and clear skies for the rest of the year!" Evia predicted. They came to a fork in the corridor, and Charlie made to turn left. "Where are you going?" She asked, using a tone of voice which suggested Charlie had made a simple and stupid mistake.

"To the Library. I thought you wanted me to help you study Potions?"

She rolled her eyes. "I want you to help me _brew_ one potion. Singular."

"In the dungeons?! You really think Snape's going to let you use the dungeons? Now? It's half past six on a Tuesday night, Sev."

She mulled things over. "I think I can convince him." She said, turning right and heading towards the staircase.

Charlie followed her weakly. "You've got confidence, I'll give you that." He shook his head in amazement.

---

They reached Snape's office quickly and Evia ducked under Charlie's arm to knock loudly on the heavy wooden door. They heard the sound of someone getting to their feet and she ducked back behind Charlie. Severus opened the door and sneered.

"Evening Mr Weasly. I don't recall assigning you a detention task this week."

Charlie gave a polite, but obviously false smile. Evia pushed him out of the way. "Hi, Professor." She grinned cheesily, ignoring her teacher's heavenward gaze and irritated sigh.

"Miss Dalsev." He replied sourly.

"Yeah, look, you know how you asked me to brew a perfect potion before I could experiment?" She paused for an answer.

"I recall the occasion, and I rather think I'm having second th-"

"Well, me and Charlie," she ignored him completely, ploughing forwards.

Charlie leaned forwards. "Charlie and I." He corrected quietly.

"-Charlie and I were wondering if we could use the classroom to try to y'know. Make a perfect Potion."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And you expect me to accept your request why?"

Charlie put a hand on her shoulder. "Hate to say it, mate, but I did say…"

She glanced his way briefly and her eyes clearly told him to be quiet and wait for her idiot-proof retort. He'd asked for a reason. She knew the Potions Master well enough by now to know that his customary response would have been to shut the door in their faces.

"Because you're obligated to. The title kinda gives it away. You're a teacher, ergo you have to teach your students- or allow us to learn. By denying us the use of the classroom, you're preventing us from learning."

Charlie bucked up. "She does have a point." He said boldly, looking his teacher full in the face. He did not back down under the glare of dislike Snape gave him.

Evia grinned at him and mouthed the words 'thank-you'.

Snape looked from one to the other. "And if I were to shut the door now, I assume that your reaction wouldn't be to walk away and let the matter rest. Am I correct?"

"You certainly are. I would without a shadow of a doubt bang on the door the precise moment you had closed it, and I wouldn't stop until you'd opened it again and told us we can use the room." Evia was well aware that points would be docked for her cheek.

"I'll take five points for brutal honesty." Snape's voice carried only the hint of amusement. "And you may use the classroom for half an hour."

Evia beamed at him. "Thank-you so m-"

The door slammed in her face.

Charlie held up his hand and she high-fived it enthusiastically. "Evia: one; Snape: nil!" He grinned, and held open the door to the classroom obligingly.

She walked through it, still thrilled at her small victory. "See, if you did that for Tessa…"

---

They had just added the final ingredient to the potion and were watching it turn the most fantastic shade of green when light suddenly burst into the room, and a lanky figure dressed in folds of black graced the doorway.

"It is half-past seven and if I remember correctly, it was half past six when I said you may have _half-an-hour_ in which to practise the art of Potion-mixing. You have spent and extra half hour in an out-of-bounds area. Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor House for each of you."

Evia wasn't deterred. "But, sir! We've finished! Look!"

Severus ignored her. "Miss Dalsev you will kindly leave the classroom _now!_"

She sighed, and pulled a flask from her robes. She filled it quickly and reached for a cork with which to use as a stopper.

"NOW, MISS DALSEV!" Snape's roar filled the dungeon, and he vanished the contents of the cauldron, turned off the heat and packed her equipment for her with three flicks of his wand.

She collected her things and hurried out, Charlie following her. "Thanks, sir." She indicated her satchel and held out the potion. "Can you take a look at that and tell me if it's perfect yet?"

He paused, and then, deciding against arguing with her, took the flask. He waited until the two students had walked down the corridor before he locked the classroom door and retired to his office.

He looked at the potion Evia had handed to him. It was a brilliant shade of green. It matched her eyes.

And now why did that just occur to him? He realised, with a jolt, that it was not Evia's eyes he was thinking of. It was Lily's.

He grimaced, and set the potion aside, returning his gaze to an essay on Moonstones. It was shocking. He was honestly quite surprised with the general lack of ability in his subject. Admittedly, he wasn't the best of teachers, but the students had a perfectly accurate textbook to refer to, and an entire library for collaboration. In fact, his essay topics were really quite simple, assuming one had perused the correct text. He sighed. He really didn't have the patience to sit through another waffling and pointless scripture.

He pulled the potion back towards him. At least he was guaranteed to see some decent work in this concoction, even if it was a simple mixture for healing a common cold. He uncorked the glass vial and held his wand above the bottle.

An hour later, when he was satisfied that he had correctly ascertained the steps Miss Dalsev and her companion had taken while brewing the potion, he sealed the bottle with an enchantment, and placed it on one of the many shelves lining his office.

A small smile creased the corner of his eyes for a second…

…and five red beads appeared out of nowhere in one of four hourglasses in the Entrance Hall.

* * *

Slightly shorted Chapter today. I got a bit sidetracked- suddenly all these wonderful ideas hit me regarding a sequel to this, so I spent most of this week writing everything down before I forgot it- and then I remembered that I had to finish this fic before writing a sequel, no matter how absorbed I am. Also, I wrote the next, next Chapter before I wrote this. Yeah. Well, when the idea hits, you gotta get it down on paper.

So I may need to revise it briefly before I post it (it was kid of rushed, and it's a big moment in Evia's life.) Anyway, I've got one more chapter on CHRISTMAAAASSS and then we get some drama happening.

Once more, reviews welcome- and can I just say that to those of you who have reviewed, and added this fic to your alert dooby-lackas: I LOVE YOU.

But not in that way. But really, guys, thanks SOOOO much! You have no idea (Well, actually, maybe you do) how much it means to an author to get positive reviews or concrit. (concrit Constructive criticism. Unlike the kind Snape gives- sarcrit)

Thanks again, guys. Much love! It's 12:30 am here in Oz, so I'ma go schleep now. G'night all.


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